


The Lows Are Extreme

by Redhoodnightwing13



Series: Mels whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Gen, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redhoodnightwing13/pseuds/Redhoodnightwing13
Summary: Dick gets exposed to a different type of toxin. Bruce does his best to help his son.Part 3 of the whumptober challenge. Held at gunpoint prompt.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Mels whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949641
Comments: 1
Kudos: 80





	The Lows Are Extreme

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of my whumptober challenge. 
> 
> Please note that this is a particularly dark story, with suicide and depression taking center stage. If this is something that distresses you or triggers you, please do not read. This topic can be incredibly harmful to people's mental health and I ask that you make your health a priority before considering reading this.  
> Stay safe, guys.

Water poured from the skies above in buckets down on Gotham’s streets, doing very little to actually wash away the grime and blood embedded in the concrete from years of wrongdoings and misfortunate. Dick sat on the edge of a building and watched as the waves of rainwater slithered across every surface they could touch, twisting and turning into an acidic concoction that seemed to strip the city of whatever final traces of good it possessed. He felt that same water trail down his head, over his shoulders, and crawl carefully down his back. It felt like it was seeping into his very skin, possessing his veins and corroding them until all that was left was hollow and empty tunnels where fear toxin made its home.

Dick remembered getting compromised during the mission. He remembered watching as one of Scarecrow’s goons grabbed Damian from behind, a syringe full of what he could only assume was the latest batch of the toxin in his hand. He watched, almost in slow motion, as the goon brought his arm down, intent on embedding that liquid into his little brother.

He remembered rushing forward, shoving Damian down and out of the way and wincing as that very syringe stabbed down onto his shoulder blade.

And then nothing.

Dick was sure it had been hours since that very moment. It had been almost midnight when he and his brothers had descended upon the warehouse where Scarecrow was currently running his operations.

The sun was inching up at this point.

Dick should probably head on home before he started to draw too much attention to his tattered Nightwing costume.  
Dick knew this, knew he was risking it all by dangling off the side of a skyscraper in the early hours of the morning. But he could not bring himself to care. Not really, at least.

None of it mattered. What good was he really accomplishing anyway? Who did Nightwing actually help?  
Just the other night, he had been helping evacuate a burning bank in downtown Gotham when the fires had grown too intense, forcing him to make the choice to flee with those he could find, leaving behind a couple of tellers deep within the building.

He hadn’t been fast enough, or smart enough, and those innocent people had paid the price. Dick had been sick with grief that night, unable to eat or sleep with the echoes of the fires burning down the structural beams and screams ringing in his ears. But he had pushed through, got up the next day with a strained smile and willingness to keep on trying to make a difference.

Except now, Dick couldn’t understand where that willful attitude had come from, because all that seemed left inside was a bitter graveyard full of lives he lost and an overwhelming desire to sink down with them.

Dick dropped his head back, his closed eyes up towards the skies, the rain flowing down his cheeks, and dreamed of a world where he had fallen alongside his parents. 

Maybe that world would be better.

Maybe it would be better if he just allowed his body to slip off this building, to fly one last final time.

Maybe, if he were lucky, he would see the shadows of his parents alongside him one last time before the end.

“Dick.”

He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and let out a harsh laugh. He knew it sounded devoid of life. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Bruce.” Dick turned his head and met the eyes of the man who shaped him into who he was. Dick noted that Bruce was in street clothes, although they appeared to be hastily thrown on, and that his eyes had that same haunted sadness they carried for months after the Joker took Jason from them. “I know what you’re going to say already, Bruce. But don’t worry, it won’t matter much longer anyway. I’ll be gone soon.”

Dick turned back towards the street and ignored the choked noise of panic from behind him. He heard footsteps come closer to him, mingling with the sounds of the falling rain.

“Stay where you are, Bruce.”

The footsteps stopped.

“Dick, I know you got hit with something. I know it seems like…” Bruce stopped, his voice trailing off as he seemed to gather his words. “I know it seems like nothing is okay right now, kiddo. But I just- I need you to put down the gun. Just…just set it down next to you, okay?”  
Dick frowned, not quite grasping his words before he looked down at his lap and saw a handgun sitting there. He must have nabbed it from one of the goons down at the warehouse when he blacked out from the toxin. He had been so wrapped up in the spiral of the toxin, he hadn’t noticed the shiny weapon sitting in his lap.

He kept his eyes on it as he heard Bruce move a bit closer.

“Dick, it’s not a normal batch of fear toxin.” Bruce sounded like his voice was inching towards frantic. Dick wasn’t sure he had heard that tone in his father’s voice since long before he lost his Robin colors for the Nightwing black and blue. “I know you can tell there’s something different about this strain. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it’s the toxin making you feel like that. It’s causing you to spiral down a dark path, son. Please just give me the gun.”

But that was where Bruce was wrong. These were his thoughts, his feelings. The toxin was merely giving them a stage to shine. Dick wasn’t sure at this point if it was rain or actual tears cascading down his face, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except the feeling of the gun against his temple.

“Dickie, please.” 

Dick wondered if his hands should be shaking or if under other circumstances he would feel fear. It is strange how he felt nothing at all, how the gun kept steady in his hand. 

“It’s better this way, dad.” Dick whispered. “It’ll be better now.”

Just as his finger began to slip over the trigger, Dick felt his body ripped violently from the ledge of the building. He tumbled down onto the wet gravel of the roof, a large body looming over him.

Bruce’s hair was wild and unkempt, matching the crazed look in his eyes. Dick looked to his left and noticed the gun far off on the other side of the roof. His fingers itched to hold it again, to end it before the hollowness eased to a bearable feeling and he was forced to move through life with an invisible anchor tied to his feet again.

His father’s chest was heaving above him as he dropped his head down onto Dick’s chest.  
There was silence for what felt like hours but was probably mere seconds; there was no noise except wheezing breathing and the winding down of a violent storm.  
Bruce looked up, searching his son’s eyes for a sign of life in the dead sea that he was currently floating down.  
With a sigh, Bruce leaned down and pressed a kiss onto Dick’s forehead, and maybe the toxin was wearing off a bit because Dick felt the shadow of warm comfort burst across his face.

Only for a moment though. Then the darkness descended back onto his shoulders like death marking his next victim.

“You’ll be okay, chum. You’ll see. You’ll be okay.” Bruce sounded like he was making the most important promise he had ever made, but Dick wasn’t sure he believed him.

After all, weren’t they all doomed to rust inside Gotham’s walls under the tainted rainwater?

Dick felt Bruce press another kiss against his temple as he closed his eyes and imagined soaring through the acid waters falling down from the skies until it tore his body apart to the shell of a person he knew was inside him.


End file.
